


I’ll Be Good

by nahm



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alcholic Dependant Athos, Alcoholic Athos, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, And So Much More, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aramis is Bisexual, Athos Angst, Athos Is Loved, Athos Past Sucks, Athos Whump, Athos is Gay, Bisexual Male Character, Comfort All The Way, Completed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gay Male Character, His Father Is a Jerk, Hurt Athos, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mention of Character Death, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Athos/Anne, Past Military Career, Polyamorous Character, Porthos is Gay, Pre Relationship, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts, They love him so much, Touch Starved Athos, boy needs a hug, he gets one, no beta we die like men, past relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26533894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nahm/pseuds/nahm
Summary: When his brother died Athos had enlisted in hopes of being killed, instead he rose through the ranks, impressing every commanding officer that came his way.  An unexpected visit home sends Athos deeper into the depression that’s haunted him his entire life, luckily Porthos and Aramis are there to pick up the pieces. Only it’s much worse than either of them ever thought.
Relationships: Aramis | René d'Herblay/Athos | Comte de la Fère/Porthos du Vallon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> “The most basic need a soul has is to experience unconditional love and acceptance.”

Coming home is strange. Athos has always hated the large suffocating buildings that make up the La Fere estate. It leaves a feeling of claustrophobia on his body, making his skin feel tight. He tries to remember Traville’s teachings but his words are lost in the screams of anxiety and panic. 

“This is a horrible idea.” He mutters between short breaths. He came home as a favour to his mother, a last ditch effort to fix the estranged relationship between Arthur and his only remaining son. Only Athos knows how much of a disaster this weekend is going to be. His father hasn’t spoken to him since the funeral and even then it was to only throw Thomas’ death in his face. 

His hands shake, whether from nervous or the lack of nicotine in his blood stream he can’t be certain. Athos has been in Paris for only six hours and the cravings are hitting him worse than they have in the last twelve months. He can only think of the scowl on Aramis’ face and his words of worry surrounding his lung health. 

One step at a time. He would say with a wide smile on his lips and a encouraging pat on the back. It’s almost funny how worried Aramis is about his lungs when it’s his liver his friend should be worried about. The only difference is neither Porthos or Aramis know how bad his drinking problem is. 

Athos hopes to keep it that way. At least for now. Dealing with one addiction is all he can handle. 

The large French doors open, light reflects off the glass, scattering a dull rainbow across the drive way onto his newly polished shoes. Athos normally wouldn’t have dressed up; he usually kept his boots on with a pair of washed out jeans and a comfy sweater, usually Porthos’, having to dawn his old fancy clothing makes him feel like he’s playing dress up. He hates it. 

A tall man with a stern look on his face looks down at Athos over round spectacles. Hamish. He’d almost expected the old butler to have retired by now. “The master isn’t in a order to entertain today,” His french accent hasn’t dulled, if anything it’s only gotten thicker, making Athos shift on his feet. “Come back later.” 

Hamish goes to close to door when Athos sticks his hand out to stop the door. The butler looks at him with wide eyes, a retort on his tongue but Athos beats him to it. “It’s been twenty years Hamish but I haven’t changed that much.” Besides his hair resting in a loose bun on the top of his head and the slightly longer facial hair, Athos is almost a carbon copy of the boy that had left twenty years ago. The doors swing open once again, leaving no option but for Athos to step backwards, the butler glaring him down. “I take it my father is in his office?” 

It’s no secret that Hamish didn’t like him. Thomas had been the house favourite. Given the option Athos is certain his father would have Athos trade places with his brother. “Master Oliver,” He can’t help but cringe at his birth name, “We weren’t expecting you. “ Athos knows the butler is lying but he doesn’t have the energy to argue with him. “I’ll have the servants bring your bags to your room.” 

A pair of small petite woman appear out of nowhere, ready to assist him but Athos stops them with a gentle glare. “Thank you but I only have one bag and I can handle it on my own.” The girls look between each other before falling back beside Hamish. “Would you inform my mother that I’ve arrived?” He doesn’t wait for the butler to respond before he pushes past and begins the long walk down the hallway. 

Family portraits stare him down as he walks Athos can feel his brother’s eyes watching him as he reaches the end of the hallway. He stops in front of the painting, his eyes hovering over the last picture taken of his baby brother before he’d died. It didn’t matter how bad the day was Thomas always had a smile on his face, he looks so much like their father it’s makes him feel nauseous. However where Arthur was rough around the edges, quick to anger and lash out, Thomas had the soft features of their mother, large round hazel eyes and striking red hair. 

He looked the part of heir Fere. Athos had always been the black sheep, his features to dark, to sharp and depression had him heavy in the bottle before the age of thirteen. He never fit in the puzzle that was his family but Thomas never made him feel that way. He’d always taken care of him when it should have been the other way around. 

“He would be proud of you, you know.” His mother soft voice pulls him out of whatever trance he’d been in. Abigail Fere makes no noise as she walks across the marble flooring, there’s a elegance about her that makes her look like a queen. It takes him a long while to tear his eyes off the picture to greet his mother. 

She’s aged beautifully, considering the grief of losing a son had almost been her undoing. Her hair frames her face like a dull autumn breeze, the red has almost faded leaving hints of grey and silver along her crown. Abigail doesn’t have a wrinkle on her face, the only notable change is how dull her eyes are. They’d never gotten their signature colour back, it was hard to look at her and not see Thomas. “It’s good to see you, Oliver.” 

She makes no move to embrace him so Athos reaches forward to kiss both of her cheeks, a shaky smile on his face. “It’s good to see you, Mother.” When he pulls away she smiles sadly at him, she knows he refuses to acknowledge her earlier statement. It’s hard to say what Thomas would be proud of. He wasn’t in his last few days of life. 

“You’ve been gone for twenty years.” Her eyes shift to the picture of her youngest, her hands folding together in front of her. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to lose two children, Oliver?” He doesn’t. Athos hasn’t even been to hold a steady relationship. “What’s worse is you refused to write or call, it was only by the grace of your Captain, Treville was it, that we knew you were alive.” 

In his entire life Athos has never heard his mother yell, she never had to. Her shift in tone, the disappointment in her voice was enough to make him feel like shit. “I’m sorry, Mother, I wasn’t sure you would want me around, not after what happened to Thomas.”

Her gaze slowly shifts back to him, her dress swishing around her legs as she moves closer to him. For a moment Athos is afraid she’s going to strike him but her thumb draws over his cheek in a soothing motion and he finds himself leaning into her touch. “What happened to your brother was not your fault, no matter what your father says.” Her voice is quiet but he can hear the anger. “You are just as much my son as Thomas was and are loved as such. “ Abigail leans down and presses a kiss to the top of his head, easing some of the anxiety. “Now go and get yourself cleaned up, dinner will be in a hour.” 

She places a kiss on his cheek before walking past him down the hall toward the dinning hall, an unfamiliar feeling of comfort lingers as the doors shut behind her and all Athos can think of is how broken she looked. 

••••••••••••••••••

His childhood bedroom is exactly the way he left it, down to the hidden bottles of brandy behind his dresser. Athos sets his bag on the bed and looks around the room; save for the small touches of bands he liked and secret compartments filled with forbidden fruits, the room is an copy of every other room in the mansion. 

Arthur is a strong believer in earning what you have and Athos has never reached any of the goals set for him. He’s lucky his father hadn’t made him sleep on the floor. 

Stripping off his clothes, he makes his way to the bathroom to have a quick shower before Hamish comes and collects him for dinner. Athos doesn’t dare glance at himself in the mirror as he undresses and steps under the water, he knows he won’t be able to handle the spots of dark freckles and bullet wounds decorating his chest and lower abdomen. 

Hot water travels down his back as he leans forward and closes his eyes, Athos is in desperate hope that the boiling water will take away some of his anxiety but if anything it’s only making it worse. He shuts the shower off before a panic attack can set in and makes his way back to his room. 

When packing for the trip he hadn’t thought to pack anything to fancy, most of his posh outfits had been donated to Aramis when they moved in together, the nicest thing he owned was a blazer and that was only ever worn for his days in court. To his surprise he sees a nice crisp suit laying at the bottom of the bag and a small note from Porthos, 

Knock em dead, Captain ;) 

Athos can’t help the smile that lifts the corner of his lips. It was rare for Porthos to leave him gifts, his overprotectiveness, the way he cooked every meal and dropped coffee at his desk every morning was how he expressed his love. It was a welcome surprise. 

The suit Porthos packed for him was a light grey with dark black trimmings, he’d paired it with a light almost translucent yellow button up, making Athos’ dark brown eyes pop. He forgot how prim and proper he could look when he put the effort in. 

Deciding to leave his hair, he slid his dog tags back beneath his blazer. He sneaks out of the room before Hamish can come and collect him, his combat boots echoing through the empty halls. Athos has walked these halls so many times he could find the dinning room with his eyes closed. 

He’s the first person to sit at the table, he’s never understood why they had such a large table, growing up it had only been his parents, brother and him, they almost never threw dinner parties and when they did they were reserved for the second dinning hall. Athos can’t even remember the last time he’d sat at this table let alone ate at it. 

His mother is the first to arrive, taking the seat on his right, his father joins shortly after, taking the position at the front of the table. Athos doesn’t look up from his empty plate as his father orders wine for the table. “Oliver.” His name sounds like a curse coming from Arthur. “I know your mother has taught you better manners than to stay silent when a person walks into a room.”

“Arthur.”

“The boy can speak up for himself, Abigail, you treating him as a child is the reason he behaves the way he does.”

Lifting his head Athos meets his father’s gaze from across the table. His entire body freezes, locking in place, as the realization of how much he looks like Arthur strikes him. It’s been nearly twenty years since he’s seen his father, it’s almost like looking in a mirror. 

A blush creeps along his neck, climbing up his cheeks as Arthur’s eyes narrow at him. Athos can’t help but wonder what Porthos and Aramis see in him if this the face staring back at them. “What have you been up to in the last two decades, son?” 

Fuck Athos even sounds like Arthur. 

It takes everything in him not to remove his gaze from his father, biting the inside of his lip, he clears his throat. “I’ve been working with the detective agency.” Athos curses himself for how much his voice shakes. “I was promoted to captain a few years back.” 

He doesn’t bother to go into detail of his ten year service in the military, it’s foolish to think his father cares enough to acknowledge his accomplishments, little as they are. 

“Good to know your years in business school went to waste.” Arthur’s voice is laced with sarcasm and Athos can’t help but flinch. His father has always been his biggest critic, even more so after Thomas passed away. 

Declining to reply, Athos grips his wine glass tightly, he’d made a promise to himself that he would try not to drink while he was with his parents but the liquid gold is looking more tempting. 

He nearly jumps out of his seat as Arthur’s hand comes down on the table, his deep voice echoing through the room. “You will respond to me when I speak to you, boy.” His voice is thick with venom and disappointment. “Killing your brother wasn’t enough for you, running off with ruffians and halogens, dragging our family name through the mud like some drunk.” 

Before he knows what he’s doing, Athos is up out of his chair, glaring at his father. “ I am not a child,” He snapped, his accent thick and hard. “And have not lived under your roof for decades. I will not stand here and take your abuse, I did not kill Thomas. Your tight leash on him is what killed him.” 

It’s taken him nearly half his life to stand up to Arthur and instead of feeling happy he just feels nauseous. 

Without waiting for his father to reply, he snatches the bottle of wine from the table and stalks out of the room, ignoring the snickering look Hamish sends him as he smashes through the doors. Athos is suppose to spend the weekend but he knows if he stays until Monday he’ll send himself back into the miserable hole he’d spent his entire life in. 

Taking the steps two at a time, he practically runs to his room. His suitcase is tossed on his bed from earlier, Athos stomps around the room grabbing the articles of clothing he’d taken out, trying to ignore his heart slamming in his chest. 

He won’t break down. Not here, not until he safely back home with Aramis and Porthos a short phone call away. It takes him a short few moments to pack his things and be on his way out of the manor, he knows he should say goodbye to his mother but he can’t be bothered, he’ll call her on the drive. 

Fere manor looms over him as he gets in the rental car and he’s pulling away before he has time to debate going back. To his credit Athos doesn’t begin to break down until he’s on the high way, his family home miles away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This final chapter took forever to write. I blame it on the shitty year 2020 was. Here's hoping for a better 2021!

Athos has thought about dying. 

It’s been on his mind since before he understood what being suicidal meant. His therapist, something Arthur disagreed with, chalked it up to a chemical unbalance in his brain, which when accompanied by the years of abuse made life feel pointless. 

Athos stopped going to his appointments. Long before he was supposed to. He lied to his mother and told her that Frank had cleared him, given him a list of medications and breathing exercise he was meant to practice, and he’d lied to Frank and said that he felt physically and mentally better. It was easy enough to get away with. Afterall Frank only cared about the paycheque, he wasn’t there to heal him. 

He thinks this is where the drinking started. 

Athos has been battling his addiction for decades. He’d only began to get sober when Aramis and Porthos came into his life. 

His life, his reason for existence, became about them. Nothing else mattered. Not even the booze that numbed him. 

He’s been sober for six months. 

More than anything he doesn’t want to break the promise he made to himself. Athos needs to be sober. For the sake of his own sanity and for the relationship he’s built with Aramis and Porthos. It’s taken him years to shake his demons, he’ll be damned if he lets them back in. 

Aramis and Porthos haven’t seen that side of him. They haven’t witnessed how deep he can fall and he can’t subject them to the evil thoughts swirling around in his head. He won’t do that to them. 

Still the bottle of wine beacons to him. 

Turning on the radio he tries to drown out the call, his fingers drumming along the stirring wheel. His apartment is closer than the boys but he can’t imagine sitting in the dark, surrounded by echoes of nothingness. He needs the soothing voice of Porthos and the comforting arms of Aramis. 

Before he can change his mind, the exit he needs to take has passed. The city lights begin to die out as he drives further away from civilization. Athos never understood Pothos’ need to live outside of the city, he couldn’t imagine having to travel over an hour to get to work in the morning, but as the lights turn into stars, he begins to see the appeal. While the countryside is remote, it’s peaceful. 

While both men have made it abundantly clear that their small homey cottage is just as much his home as it is theirs, Athos has always kept his apartment, he’s always been too afraid to get rid of it. So, he made daily trips back and forth, stopping every few days back at his apartment to get more clothes, he did this for two months before Aramis got fed up and demanded that he just move in with them. He’d only been living with Aramis and Porthos full time for a few weeks before he’d gone back home to visit him parents and now with the emotional shit show he’s about to unleash on them, he’s sure it won’t be long before they kick him to the street.

He’s pulling into their driveway long before he has a cover story made up. Athos doesn’t know what to tell them, he’s never given either of them the entire truth about his family. All they know is that he comes from a long line of spoiled rich assholes who have too much power. Given them the story of Thomas seems to person. To real. 

He chews on his bottom lip, debating on what to do next. The right thing would be to turn around and go back to his apartment in the city. He doesn’t even know if they’re home. 

Letting out a deep sigh, he turns the car off, glancing toward the cottage. 

The lights in the living room are on, telling him that Aramis is home, more than likely watching a movie or a reality tv show. Judging by how late it is, Porthos is probably working a double, Athos only knows this because he’s truck is missing from the driveway. It startles him how well he knows these men, how deep they’ve intertwined in his life. 

Deciding last second to leave the wine in the back seat, he slowly makes his way up the long driveway. The clean fresh air of the city does a number on his anxiety, a part of him wants to just stand under the stars and let the world pass by him, but he’d rather not Porthos happen on him in the current state he’s in.

For the first time in twelve months, he reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a cigarette. He knows he shouldn’t light it, but he needs to focus his brain on something other than the booze in the back of his car. 

Athos is the middle of lighting the cigarette when the front door opens and Aramis’ frame cuts through the light on the porch. 

Even from far away the Spanish man is breath taking, his long black hair is spun to rest on the top of his head, in what can only be described as a clean, messy bun, an oversized sweater completely engulfs his lanky frame, hanging off of one of his shoulders, showing off his strong and powerful muscles. Athos might have been concerned for how cold the other man might be, but he knew that under Porthos’ sweater, Aramis had on a thick pair of leggings that he specially kept for their weekends together, much to his husband’s annoyance. 

“Athos?” He calls, concerned. 

There’s a very real part of him that wants to turn around and bolt in the other direction. But Aramis has seen him, there’s no escaping it now. No matter how panicked he might feel. 

Removing the cigarette from the corner of his mouth, he tucks it behind his ear, and lifts a hand to wave.  
The taller man is running toward him before his hand falls back to his side. Aramis has his arms wrapped around his body before Athos can react, the scruff of his beard brushing along his neck. “Oh Athos!” The excitement in his tone sends a shiver down his spine. “What are you doing here?” He brushes his fingers through his hair, relaxing him without even trying. “Porthos is going to be so happy, he was worried you know, he kept saying that something didn’t feel right and that we should go and pick you up—” 

Athos closes his eyes as the other man speaks, breathing in the strong sent of cinnamon and cloves, he wants to lose himself in it. 

His face flushes as Aramis pulls away and takes his cheeks in his hands, his deep eyes meeting his. “You’ve been crying...” His tone dips, heartbroken. Athos hates it. Aramis should never be sad because of him. “Come we’ll get you bathed, a nice cup of hot coco and snuggles on the couch, Porthos should be home soon.” The Spanish man takes his hand and leads him up the driveway into the house, his hold never faltering.

After a long bubble bath and several glasses of hot chocolate, Aramis curls up beside him on the couch, his fingers entwining with his under the thickest and warmest blanket Athos has ever cuddled with. It doesn’t take long before he feels his eyes begin to shut, the background noise of a romcom rolling him into a deep slumber. 

••••••••••••••••••

“I’ve never seen him cry, Porthos, you didn’t see his face.”

“Did you ask him what happened?”

“I meant to, but he fell asleep while we were cuddled on the couch, whatever happened at his parents did a number on him. Do you think we should ask him?” 

Their voices slowly draw Athos out of his sleep; Aramis is no longer curled up beside him, the spot feels cold and empty without him. He slowly opens his eyes and looks around the living room, a dim light from the moon reflects through the glass windows, highlighting the large frame of Porthos. He must have slept longer than he thought.

Porthos is standing with his arms folded over his chest and a concerned look on his face. Athos can see from where he’s sitting how tired the younger man looks. His tie is hanging loosely around his neck, more than likely from Aramis. Athos has always found Porthos handsome with his strong features and warm eyes but surrounded by the moonlight he can see why so many woman and men in the office stare at him so often.

“It’s not polite to talk about people.” He meant for his voice to be teasing but it just came out weak and tired. Fuck. He really was pathetic.  
Despite the worry on his face, Porthos smiles brightly at him. “Maybe you should take your own advice, boss.” He crosses the room in two large strides and reaches down to engulf him in a strong hug, making sure to give him an extra squeeze. “Besides some concern is always a good thing.” 

Athos doesn’t want him to let go, and his bottom lip wobbles a little as the taller man sets him down. Aramis comes up behind Porthos and gently hits his shoulder. “Oh, leave him be, Porth, can’t you see he’s in pain.” 

Porthos rolls his eyes, his arm wrapping around his husband’s waist as they sit in the seat opposite him. “Athos knows I tease him because I care.” This isn’t the first time Athos wishes he could be squished between the two of them, he wants more than anything to feel the love they have for each other for himself. 

“Perhaps you care too much.” He replies, drawing his knees to his chest. The cozy blanket falls across his feet, taking the rest of the warmth. 

“No one could care to much about you, Ath.”

He’s never understood their need to keep him around. Athos was miserable with them from the moment he met them. He’d made sure to try his hardest to keep them both at a distance but no matter how many harsh words or empty threats he threw at them, they kept coming back. 

He didn’t deserve them. He never would.

Aramis squirms his way out of Porthos’ arm and slithers up beside him, drawing the blanket up around him again. “You don’t have to tell us what happened.” He whispered, his voice soothing. “You can talk whenever you’re ready, but we will be here to listen whenever that might be.” 

Once he was sure he was tucked in tightly, Aramis wraps his arms around him and holds him. It doesn’t take long for Porthos to join them, his strong scent of sandalwood and pine trees calming him even further.

“I’ve never told you..” Athos begins, his voice low. “But I had a younger brother, his name was Thomas.” 

It’s been so long since he’s talked about his brother. Athos knows he’s going to break but he knows Porthos and Aramis will be there to hold him as he falls apart. Both men hold him tight as he loses himself to his memories.

“We were inseparable growing up. He was always my shadow, always wanting to do everything I was. Thomas was always the stronger one out of the two of us. My father liked him better, he was what the heir of the Fere fortune should have been. I was too weak, to dependant on drugs and alcohol to get me through the day. 

Thomas was my protector, it should have been the other way around, I was older brother, I should have been the one looking out for him. I was diagnosed with depression when I was five years old, the doctors couldn’t pinpoint a reason, something was just wrong with my brain. When Thomas was old enough to understand what the meant he did everything in his power to make sure I was okay. And it worked for a long time. He kept me distracted and focused on other things. 

Depression doesn’t just go away though. No matter how hard we all tried to keep it at bay it just kept coming back… my father was tired of having to explain where his eldest son was, so he sent me away to a boarding school.” 

Athos swallowed, picking at the skin beneath his nail. He hated this part of the story. He wished he could take it back, or trade places with Thomas. 

“While I was there, I met and fell in love with a woman. Her name was Anne. I didn’t know at the time how toxic she really was. Not until Thomas came to visit me over the summer break. He tried to tell me what she was doing but I thought I was in love and ignored everything he told me. Thomas was convinced that she was just with me to get my money, he was right of course, but I couldn’t see past the drugs and booze she was giving me on a daily basis.

Anne was only part of the problem. I was addicted to how the drugs and alcohol made me feel, or how they didn’t make me feel a thing. When I was high or drunk, I didn’t feel like a failure. Thomas wanted to help me, he desperately tried to show me what Anne was really liked but I didn’t listen... in the end it cost him his life...”

Athos felt the tears in the corner of his eyes. It had been decades since he had spoken about this. He hadn’t thought about the events leading up to his brother’s death since it happened. Porthos took one of his hand on his own and stroked his thumb across the top, centering him. 

“Anne had a plan to kill me and steal my fortune. She would have gotten away with it, she had access to all of my information, I’d given it to her in a fit of a drunk haze and had completely forgotten about it… Thomas confronted her with all the evidence he had on her, afraid that I would listen to my brother, Anne shot him and left him to bleed out…”

Athos could feel the tears running down his face, fuck he missed Thomas so much. He wished he’d listened to him. Had he been stronger, his younger brother would still be here. 

“I-I found him moments later… he’d already lost so much blood there was no saving him. Thomas held my hand as he took his last breath.” Athos felt his lungs clench as he fought off a panic attack. “A-Anne took all the evidence with her..the only thing she left was the engagement ring I’d given her.”

Neither Porthos or Aramis spoke, the silence in the room causing the panic to grow in his chest. He knew telling them would have caused them to look at him differently. Athos had fought so long to keep this a secret because he was terrified to lose them. He didn’t know what he would do now that they didn’t love him—  
“Athos,” Cold hands cupped his cheeks as Porthos kneeled in front of him, his dark chocolate brown eyes meeting his. “You’re hyperventilating. I need you to breath, okay?” He focused on the larger man’s voice, following his demonstration to settle his breathing. “In and out, boss.” 

He hadn’t noticed but Aramis was sitting behind him, rubbing circles in his back, calming the panic raising in his body. “We have you, Amour.”

After several long painstaking moments, his breathing returned to normal, his eyes were bloodshot and burning but he was no longer crying. Much to his embarrassment. He flushed under Porthos’ hands, trying to pull away but the other man held him in place. “Does this have to do what happened with your parents?” He asked, gently, his thumbs stroking his cheeks.

Athos nods slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat. “My father blames me for Thomas’ death. He’s not wrong… he would have preferred that I would have died rather than him. He just reminded me of that...” 

Aramis’ hand pauses on his back, for a moment nothing happens, it isn’t until Athos feels the tears building again does Aramis explode in a fit of rage, swearing in French and threatening to go and kick his father’s ass. 

Porthos pulls away from his face only long enough to snap at Aramis. “Going to fight his father isn’t going to solve anything, Mis.” His voice is hard, he’s hurting just as much as Aramis is. Athos feels overwhelmed about how much these two care for him. “We need to focus on, Athos right now, nothing else matters.”

Muttering another round of curses, Aramis tucks himself in Athos side again, holding him close as Porthos looks back at him. “Now I don’t know what sort of stick your father has up his ass, but your brother’s death wasn’t your fault. “He cuts Athos off as he goes to speak. “You didn’t pull the trigger or shoot him, Athos, Thomas’ death was tragic and heart breaking but it is not your fault.” 

His hand caressed his cheek again, “You were sick and instead of helping you, your father sent you away and expected all of your problems to go away. Anne is the only person at fault for the death of your brother. I know Thomas knew how much you loved him, Ath, and that you would never do anything to hurt him.” 

Leaning forward he pressed their foreheads together. “We will be your new family if you want. Aramis and I love and care about you so much, Athos. We have for a long time and all we want is what’s best for you. I know it’s not my place but fuck your father. He doesn’t deserve to have you in his life. Your place is here with us.”

Aramis nuzzles his face into his neck and smiles sadly at him. “Porthos is right. We love you unconditionally, amour, demons and all.” Reaching across he picked up Porthos hand and squeezed. “We will always love you, no matter how dark your past is. Porthos and I will always be here to support you. “

Athos looks between them, only scowling a little. “How can you love me..you’ll come to regret—”

“We will never regret the decision to love you, Athos. Haven’t you learned by now? It’s the three of us against the world.”

“We love you, amour.” 

Nestled between them, practically drowning in the love they held for him, Athos believed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! <3


End file.
